Love and it's Associates
by Andromeda4
Summary: Malon loves Link. Link loves Zelda, who loves a narcissistic rich-boy. But if you take two desperate Gerudu witches, a band of Goron rock singers, an odd team of Ingo and Talon, mix in a couple of panicky sages and a jealous Zora Queen, who can win?


Love and it's Associates

Prologue

At first glance, the little old woman sitting by herself on the side of the busy street appeared to be nothing more than another vagabond, another victim of the countries tragic economy loss. The salaries of citizens had gone down significantly before anyone had realized the minister of economic development was illiterate. 

At second glance, one would notice the way she hunched over when she laughed, a cackle that was bad at the best of times, but made infinitely worse by her odd mannerisms. She held a beer bottle in her hand, filled with some strange green liquid that was best not prodded at. Her clothing was tattered and torn, and her hair would have made even Sir Kenzington, also dubbed Sir Afro, faint. 

Third glances were rare, but did occur. The old woman's dress had once been blue, though it was now an offensive shade of brown-gray, and her hands were covered in a layer of filth. She wore no shoes.

Fourth glances showed a diamond ring on her ring finger, and thick black hair hidden beneath a white wig which disguised her true youth. 

Those who could brave the stench of her, and stand the swarms of flies that infested 'her' garbage bin, where most often shooed away by a well placed whack of a half-rotten broom, or a loud, attention gathering curse. However, not all were given this most inhospitable treatment. A few, especially small, cute children, with ridiculously high voices, were welcomed into her oh-so humble, open-air residence. 

There, she would, in her unpleasant voice, cackle them stories of 'how the world had been back in her day'. If a soul ever mentioned that fact that her gray hair was but a wig, they were smacked repeatedly with a broom and sent on their way, most often times rubbing injured and sore back-sides.

Today, I had decided to brave the old witch in a fit of boredom and fascination. I had been warned not to interrupt her, and had no desire to do so, but just in case, I wore a large pillow on my rear end, an item of apparel that earned me several odd looks from pedestrians, let me tell you. I also carried a broomstick of my own, so at the very least, if things came to out and out battle, I would be equipped. 

As soon as I approached the dumpster in which she sat, she jumped out at me, much like my cat, Fluffsalot, had done when my younger brother connected him to several live wires, left over from my insane father's inventions. He claims that electrical lighting is going to be big, but he also claims that our planet circles the sun. He's mad, but let's not get into that, shall we?

"What do you want, me young one?" she crowed, a broom ready for a good whacking. I glanced around nervously, looking for a quick escape root. 

"I want- I want to hear a story," I said.

"A story! Well, my dearie, I think you're in for a treat. I've a good many stories. Which one would you like to hear?"

"What ones have you got?" I asked excitedly. 

"Well, I've 'The Little Atheists Go To Hell', 'Gods, Kill that Whore and Her Ideas of Pre-Marital Sex!', and my personal favorite, 'Religion Should Be Taught in Hylian Schools, or Else'." 

"Don't you have anything less, well, pious?" I asked. 

"I suppose," she said reluctantly, "I could tell you a story about Sir Link. He was a nice, Gods-fearing lad."

"Would you?" I asked, clapping my hands in delight.

"Not so fast," she said, holding up her broom. I cringed, expecting a blow, but none came. 

"What?" I asked.

"Give me your broom," she ordered.

"Eh?"

"Give it here!" she shrieked, holding her own menacingly. 

I quickly handed it over, and she immediately began to inspect it.

"It's a good, strong quality, which originated about fifty years ago. The bristles are made of fine wheat, and the handle is comfortably grooved for maximum striking capability," she muttered. 

"What?" I asked, panicking. 

"Now, my sweet," she said, throwing it into her dumpster, and then sitting on the dirty ground before me. "Get ready for a real gory tale of blood and war."

"But I want a love story!" I protested.

She grumbled, but said, "Fine. I have just the one, me ducky."

"What?"

She was irritated. "Just shut up and listen!" 

"Okay," I said meekly.

"Now," she began, "This is a story that starts, long, long ago, in a town far, far away…"

So how was that? I hope you liked. Sorry it was so short. I just had to get the intro out of the way. Please, read and review! Other chappies will be longer. 


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